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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29095815">Here's to the girls who stay smart (aren't they the best)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/phonecallfromgod/pseuds/phonecallfromgod'>phonecallfromgod</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Social Network (2010)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Final Clubs, Genderswap, Harvard Era, Jealousy, Resolved Sexual Tension</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:48:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29095815</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/phonecallfromgod/pseuds/phonecallfromgod</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In which E. Saverin takes M. Zuckerberg to a Phoenix Club party and several assumptions are very firmly corrected.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Divya Narendra/Cameron Winklevoss, Eduardo Saverin/Mark Zuckerberg</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Here's to the girls who stay smart (aren't they the best)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Its not like Mara considers herself to be a man hating lesbian or anything. Mara doesn’t actually consider herself to be a lesbian at all, man hating or otherwise. She still likes guys, even if she seems to be spending a lot more time kissing girls lately.  Firstly, her friend Chris — who actually <em>is</em> a lesbian —just to see if she liked it, Eleanora once when they were both pretending to be more drunk than they actually were at some Kappa Alpha Theta event she’d let her drag her to, and most recently but never to be repeated Erica Albright, who Mara missed and hated in about equal measure. </p>
<p>    The point being however, was when the email showed up in her inbox from some guys  pitching her a programming job on their dating site — nobly represented as a unit by one Divya Narendra — Mara immediately deleting it had nothing to do with their use of the phrase ‘girls want to get with guys who go to Harvard’ and everything to do with it being a stupid idea.  </p>
<p>    Okay maybe it was a little bit to do with it, but <em>mostly</em> because it was stupid. Which is why she feels no guilt when she deletes the subsequent emails from C. &amp; T. Winklevoss at Harvard-dot-edu praising her drunkenly ill-thought but still technically impressive work on FaceMash</p>
<p>    Though that did leave her projectless on a Friday night, which normally would have been fine because she’d roll up to Dustin’s room and bother him, maybe tag along to whatever borderline pitiful but mediocrely fun event AEPi was throwing that weekend. Only that was before the weekend before last when Dustin had pulled her aside at Caribbean Night, which was in fact borderline pitiful and mediocrely fun, and admitted that he was a little bit in love with her and would she maybe want to go out sometime in a more-than-friends capacity. </p>
<p>    Mara had said yes, because she was an idiot, and then a day later had backtracked and said no, because she wasn’t <em>that </em>much of an idiot. On the scale of people Mara found tolerable Dustin was pretty close to as high as a guy could probably get. But she didn’t need three lukewarm dinner dates at a moderately priced chain restaurant to know that her feelings for Dustin were never, ever, ever going to approach boyfriend territory. Dustin had been pretty cool about it when she’d blurted this reasoning to him in a guilty spiral over dining hall breakfast burritos. He still wanted to be friends and he hadn’t ditched her on their stats project. But he had asked for space and some time for wound licking, which Mara had tried to grant graciously, which had only made Dustin go all slumped in the shoulders and say, “please don’t be that nice to me, it’s making me feel extra pathetic” </p>
<p>Anyway, Dustin was off licking his wounds for the second weekend in a row and there was nothing worth watching on Chris’ tiny staticky tv. Not that that was deterring Chris from watching <em>What Not To Wear</em> and painting her nails, Mara sitting beside her with her laptop open with nothing more interesting than Spider Solitaire to preoccupy her. </p>
<p>“I feel like I should be insulted by this,” she says, as they show B-roll footage of the makeover participant in outfits that could have been literally ripped from her wardrobe. </p>
<p>“Maybe you should be <em>inspired</em>,” Chris says, tightening the cap on her nail polish bottle, and Mara’s definitely pithy retort is cut off by the sound of someone knocking twice and then trying the door. </p>
<p>“Hey,” Eleanora says, sticking her head past the threshold, and Mara still is surprised to see her without the dark curtain of hair she’d left Cambridge with when she went home for Yom Kippur. It’s not like Mara thought she looked bad or anything; if anyone could pull off one of those stylish short haircuts it was Eleanora, who was the kind of supermodel hot that didn’t need to hide behind anything. Mara couldn’t really relate, having spent most of her high school life flat ironing her curls into submission, though Harvard and 8:30 am compsci lectures kicked her off the habit. </p>
<p>Mara makes herself look away and plays a few cards of spider solitaire while Chris gets up and hugs Eleanora. One of them says something so hushed that Mara can’t really make out who said it, but Chris heads over to the cubby of her side of the room, leaving them alone on the couch. </p>
<p>“Hey, I gotta tell you something you’re not gonna believe,” Eleanora says, sitting so close to Mara on the couch their knees bump together. “I just got invited to a party at the Phoenix.” </p>
<p><em>That </em>gets her attention. “Are you kidding?” </p>
<p>“No.” </p>
<p>“Uh, wow,” Mara says. </p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess we’ve got some good connections with them or whatever. Which is awesome because most of the final club guys won’t give us the time of day.” </p>
<p>    The ‘us’ in question was The Bee Club, which <em>was </em>technically a final club, but hovered in a strange place between the rest of the sororities and the actual all-male final clubs. Mara supposed she could respect what The Bee was trying to do, even if she had really doubted that Eleanora was going to get much more of a leg up than she had by being in Kappa Alpha Theta. But an invite to a Phoenix party was definitely something worth getting excited about. </p>
<p>    “So, uh,” Mara says, “they invited all of you.” </p>
<p>    “No, just a couple of people, our recruitment chair vouched for me though.” </p>
<p>    “Yankee?”</p>
<p>    “I wasn’t supposed to tell you about that,” Eleanora says sheepishly, which is all the confirmation that Mara needs to know the Bee’s recruitment chair is Eleanora’s painfully obvious sapphic obsession of the moment, so named because the year she’d been punched by the Bee had been using phonetic alphabet call signs for their punches. Or maybe it had been the year of baseball teams? Whatever. </p>
<p>The point was, despite being barely a decade old, The Bee was proudly pursuing the final club tradition of secret society nonsense by giving all their punches code names to obfuscate their identities. Mara felt like that almost certainly wouldn’t work if punches actually wanted to figure out who their fellow candidates were with a little time on the facebooks of the different houses, but Eleanora had gone along with it without complaint or questioning when her year was types of wines and she had been dubbed Chardonnay. </p>
<p>“Well, uh, have fun at your party,”  Mara says when she realizes she’s been quiet too long and Nora is looking at her with huge expectant eyes.</p>
<p>    “Do you think I came over to brag? No, I got a plus-one so...” </p>
<p>    “So?” Mara says, because it’s fun to push Nora around when she’ll let her, “You’re taking Chris then right?” </p>
<p>    “Mara.” </p>
<p>    “I mean I’ll have to check my <em>incredibly </em>busy schedule,” she says, shoving her laptop onto the couch and getting up. </p>
<p>    “Mar-<em>a</em>.” </p>
<p>    “Nor-<em>a</em>.” </p>
<p>    “Do you want me to get down on one knee?” Eleanora says, “These pants are dry clean only but I’ll do it for you.” </p>
<p>    “Look at this, I’m already up and looking in my closet for you!” Mara says, “The lengths I go to make you happy.” </p>
<p>    “I mean you need to wear something, you know,” Eleanora says, voice pitching a little nervously to the side like a tight-rope walker. “Nice.” </p>
<p>    “I own nice stuff,” Mara says with a grunt as she shoves past all of her hoodies and pullover sweaters. Maybe it’s a little sad that her wardrobe hasn’t evolved much since she was the bustiest girl in the sixth grade and just wanted people to stop <em>looking at her</em>, but if anything her massive rack has actually helped her blend in more than stick out in the boys club that is programming. Still, she does own, like, three dresses, and Eleanora appraises them seriously before picking the navy blue one she’d worn to her high school graduation. It was sleeveless but had one of those high-necked collars that always made Mara think of the seventies, and when she’d tried it on at the store her older sister had declared she’d never talk to her again if Mara didn’t get it. </p>
<p>“C’mon,” Nora says, throwing the dress hanger and all over her shoulder, “Let's go back to mine.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    “If I knew you were going to take this long I would have gone ahead and flat ironed my hair,” Mara says, flat on her back against the lumpy heated blanket Eleanora has spread across her duvet. </p>
<p>    Nora turns half around in her desk chair and jabs a mascara wand at her threateningly, “Don’t you dare. I can’t believe you used to straighten your hair every day, it’s criminal.” </p>
<p>    “It used to be a lot more frizzy than it is now,” Mara kicks her leg idly. “Now I just put it up and it’s fine, but it was always so frizzy and gross in high school.” </p>
<p>“Mara,” Eleanora says, sounding exhausted. “It was frizzy because it was heat damaged. Because you were straightening it every day.” </p>
<p>She sits up, “Wait, really?” </p>
<p>“Yes really.” </p>
<p>“Well no one tells me these things,” Mara sulks.</p>
<p>“I know, life is unfair,” Eleanora says, and she sounds too much like Erica, Mara’s heart</p>
<p>twisting against the cage of her ribs. It feels unfair to compare them and impossible to avoid at the same time, so Mara busies herself in snooping around Nora’s room.</p>
<p>    Eleanora keeps her perfumes on a little tray on her bookshelf, the little bottles gleaming like fancy hard candies tucked between her stats textbooks and a pile of Cosmopolitans. <em>TEN HOT TIPS FOR SCREAMING Os</em>, the cover of the top issue announces in hot pink. </p>
<p>    “Did you want to borrow one of my perfumes?” Eleanora asks. “You should if you want to. I’m sure there’s one you won’t hate.” </p>
<p>    “Maybe,” Mara says, thankful for the distraction the same way she used to be thankful for menstrual cramps so she could skip gym. She sniffs at each one dutifully, trying to take it seriously because she knows Eleanora will never let her get away with anything less than her genuine opinion. She should have known when she picked up the last bottle, considerably lighter than the rest, but Mara isn’t braced for the cloud of <em>NORA </em>that floods her brain. </p>
<p>    It clatters when she shoves it back down on the tray, and Eleanora looks over at her quizzically. “You good?” </p>
<p>    “Yeah, fine, sure,” Mara says, grabbing a different bottle at random before Nora can ask any follow ups. “Here. This one.” </p>
<p>    Eleanora meets her eyes in the mirror, lips pressing together to ensure her lipstick is even before she turns in her chair and stands, gesturing for the bottle with an elegant flick of her wrists. Nora has hands like a watch model, shiny oval nails she keeps short but never bites, and Mara lets her flip her wrists over. </p>
<p>    “I feel like I’m getting attacked by the perfume ladies at the department store,” Mara says as Eleanora spritzes perfume on her pulse point and rubs her wrists together. </p>
<p>    “Well I’m working on commission so I have to be a little aggressive,” Eleanora says, guiding her wrists back to rub against her neck, just under her ears. Mara hopes she’s just being paranoid that Eleanora can see her pulse jump in her throat. She’s certainly standing close enough, and she lingers for a moment after letting go of Mara’s wrists, pulling a curl loose from the metal hair clip Mara’s mom bought for her the summer before college on a family trip to the Finger Lakes. </p>
<p>    “You have nice hands,” Mara says, because it’s true, and because she wants to, but Eleanora scrunches her nose like she’s making fun of her somehow. </p>
<p>    “O-<em>kay</em>, thank you,” Nora says, adjusting her watch and then checking the time, “We should go. There’s fashionably late and there’s whatever we’re about to be.” </p>
<p>    Mara doesn’t argue back, and she doesn’t complain when Eleanora doesn’t let her bring a coat, the two of them power walking across campus huddled together. Well, okay, she complains a little bit, but it’s <em>cold</em>. </p>
<p>    “Walk faster then,” Eleanora says, and if Mara thinks it’s cold there’s no way her Brazillian-via-Miami constitution isn’t absolutely frozen. Her hands are like solid blocks of ice when she grabs Mara by the wrist and steers her past the line that’s snaked its way from the Phoenix clubhouse door and brings her straight up to the bouncer. </p>
<p>    His eyes flick over her when Eleanora gives him her name and her club affiliation, and for a terrifying half second Mara thinks she’s totally fucked, that the bouncer can see right through her JC Penney sales rack dress and the fact that they had to safety pin her bra to her dress so the straps weren’t sticking out. But he just gives a head jerk and lets them through, the heatwave of the party slamming against her as a solid block of humid air as they get past the threshold. </p>
<p>    “See,” Eleanora says, jumping up and down on the spot and rubbing her bare arms. “No coats. Let’s get drinks.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    So the party is. </p>
<p>    The party is fine. It’s nice. The booze is definitely better and the people are more well dressed than at Dustin’s AEPi parties. But in all of Mara’s brief and fleeting fantasies of attending final club parties, she’d never properly acclimatized herself to the idea of being someone <em>else’s</em> plus-one. And it’s far too much like being stuck in the K-Mart parking lot while her mom catches up with her friend for Mara’s tastes. </p>
<p>    Every time they finish with some Theta sister or fellow member of the Investor’s Society there’s another waiting in the wings jumping to get Eleanora’s attention. She feels like a small town politician’s wife as Nora introduces her over and over again to people who smile at her fleetingly for ten seconds before turning their attention back to Eleanora. </p>
<p>    Though it does make up for it somewhat when the most recent contender finally wraps up his small talk monologue and flits off to bother someone else, Nora turns to her with big melodramatic eyes and huffs loudly. She leans close — closer than is arguably necessary even over the noise of the party — “Let’s go find somewhere to sit, I feel like I’m speed dating.” </p>
<p>    Which is all fine and good for about thirty seconds when they walk into one of the less crowded side rooms and a girl with a dark blunt bob immediately gets up from a couch to wave them over, “Oh look what the cat dragged in.” </p>
<p>    “I was wondering where you were,” Eleanora says, leaning over to kiss her in that way girls born into a certain income bracket just seem born knowing. “I got mobbed, I’m playing nice.” </p>
<p>“I get it.” </p>
<p>“This is my — this is Mara,” Eleanora puts a hand on her arm and Mara feels her back straighten of its own accord, “This is Divya, our recruitment chair.” </p>
<p>    “<em>You’re </em>Yankee?” Mara says before she can stop herself. Something about the baseball affiliation of her nickname brought to mind a wholesome Middle American Girl-Next-Door type, the kind of girl who braided her long honey blonde hair and wore her boyfriend’s varsity jacket. Yankee in reality is a sleek and serious-looking girl with the half-filed down remnants of a New Yorker accent and bold red lipstick whose silk blouse dips low enough to announce that she has great tits and is well aware of it. </p>
<p>    So, in short, exactly Eleanora’s type. Jesus fuck. </p>
<p>    “Allegedly,” Divya says, taking the last sip of a martini. “That’s more of a club thing.” </p>
<p>    “So, I’m not allowed to call you Yankee then,” Mara tests, “Right?” </p>
<p>    “It’s a free country, but I might not reply. ” Divya says sweetly. “I’m gonna get a top up. Save my spot?” </p>
<p>    Nora’s head goes bobbing away like it’s balanced on a spring, and she waits until Divya is out of earshot before turning to Mara. She doesn’t even look mad, and Mara can’t place why that’s so disappointing but it fucking is. </p>
<p>“Hey,” Eleanora says under her breath. “What is your deal?” </p>
<p>    “I don’t have a deal.” </p>
<p>    “Seriously?” </p>
<p>    “I just didn’t know Divya could be a girl’s name, that’s all,” Mara settles on sulkily. </p>
<p>    Eleanora gives her a side eye but doesn’t push it, kicking off her heels and pulling her legs up onto the couch to cross them in Mara’s lap. “Are you having fun? A little?” </p>
<p>    “Oh yeah, oodles,” Mara traces a finger over Nora’s calf muscle and watches the way her foot flexes. It feels like they’re not even the same species sometimes, the way Eleanora just moves through space like this fluid graceful thing, long limbs, wide doe eyes. </p>
<p>    “I think I’ve paid my schmooze-dues,” she offers, in that not-apologizing way that she excels in. “We can just focus on having fun now.” </p>
<p>    “Unless Divyankee decides to have me drawn and quartered.” </p>
<p>    “She’s actually really cool, she just needs a minute to warm up to you,” Eleanora muses, running her fingers up Mara’s arm and erupting a trail of goosebumps. “Sound like someone?” </p>
<p>    “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mara says, leaning back into her, like they’re still on the couch at Kirkland and not in the middle of a final club clubhouse with dozens of people around to see them. Draw conclusions that are wrong. Or half-wrong. Or not wrong at all. </p>
<p>    “That perfume smells nice on you,” Nora says, as they readjust closer together. “You should take it if you like, I never wear it. Suits you.” </p>
<p>    “Really?” </p>
<p>    “Oh, yeah, if Mara Z smelled like a smell, this is absolutely the smell she would smell like,” Eleanora says, voice dipped down right into her ear and the she’s just over Mara’s shoulder, she’s <em>right there</em> and the impulse builds so sharply that she’s already shaking with it. It’s going to happen again, it’s going to happen right now. They’re going to—</p>
<p>    “This is a really interesting interpretation of ‘saving my spot,’” Divya says, her mouth curling behind the rim of her martini glass, edged in salt for Mara’s wounds. She’s flanked by a pair of very tall blonde identical twins who are in little black dresses so similar it takes Mara a moment to realize that they are not, in fact, the same. The only obvious identifier between the two of them is that one of the twins has bangs, in a move so calculated it feels like a slightly patronizing courtesy. </p>
<p>    “That’s a really interesting way to say ‘thank you Eleanora,’ but you’re very welcome,” Nora retorts, pulling her legs off Mara’s lap and leaning over so Divya can sit back down. Which she doesn’t even <em>do, </em>she just settles on the arm of the couch and adjusts her blouse so a little more cleavage darts up from under the fabric. </p>
<p>    “El, do you know Taylor and Catherine?” Divya says, gesturing at No-Bangs and Bangs respectively, “This is Taylor and Catherine.” </p>
<p>    “We’ve heard all about you,” Taylor says, “Divya seems to think you’re her mini-me.” </p>
<p>    Catherine pulls her hair over her shoulder, “You’re a Theta right?” </p>
<p>    “ —I think we met at the —” Taylor interjects. </p>
<p>    “ —The Panhellenic brunch thing yeah,” Catherine finishes. </p>
<p>    “That sounds right,” Eleanora says with a melodramatic huff as if to say <em>who can keep track of these things</em>? “So, I’ll take your word for it. You’re in Kappa right?” </p>
<p>    “Yeah don’t hold it against us, it’s practically an automatic offer if you’re a varsity athlete,” Taylor says as she settles in beside Mara, which is extra awesome for the way it shoves Eleanora against Divya sitting on the arm. Absolutely fantastic. “It’s not perfect but good ol’ Visa Visa Mastercard has its perks.” </p>
<p>    Not that Mara <em>cares </em>that much about Greek life bullshit, but it’s fairly common knowledge that Kappa Alpha Theta and Kappa Kappa Gamma aren’t exactly on the most friendly terms. Though she also knows that Eleanora mostly pledged as a way to get a line on good parties and less because she really cares about all that ra-ra sisterhood bullshit. </p>
<p>    “Neither of us really take that whole Kappa-Theta rivalry thing very seriously,” Catherine says evenly like she’s reading Mara’s mind, tucked beside Divya with clearly no intention of sitting. She’s easily got to be six-foot not accounting for the sensible heels. </p>
<p>    “Well it’s nice to meet you guys again, properly, and thanks for the invite. Divya told me you were behind that, I really appreciate it.” </p>
<p>    “You’re so welcome,” Taylor chirps, “They’re always telling Elliot he can basically add as many girls to his list as he wants. And you’re in the Bee so that means you’ve got Div’s stamp of approval and that’s good enough for us.” </p>
<p>    “Who’s Elliot?” Mara asks, not because she cares very much but because it’s becoming increasingly obvious no one is going to give her an entry into this conversation if she doesn’t take it, “I’m Mara by the way. No Panhellenic affiliation.” </p>
<p>    “Um, liar, we literally met at an AEPi event,” Eleanora says, smacking her on the arm in a way that feels a little more reprimanding than playful. </p>
<p>    “Well until they officially go co-ed I’m unaffiliated.” </p>
<p>    “Elliot’s my meal ticket,” Taylor says, running her very short but hot pink painted nails up her thighs thoughtfully. Like she was waiting for them to finish so she could announce this. </p>
<p>    “She means he’s her boyfriend,” Catherine corrects, “You can’t call him that, people are gonna get ideas.” </p>
<p>    “Cath, people already have ideas, chillax,” Taylor grins at Mara like they’re in on some scandalous secret together. “He’s in the Porcellian so sometimes they get party invites, and no one’s going to say no to me passing on a few to the Bee. What better way to keep your girl to guy ratio high than dipping into the all girls’ club?” </p>
<p>    It takes Mara a second to unwind what Taylor’s just said, something nasty and sharp building at the back of her throat. She doesn’t get to say it though before a figure breaks out of the crowd and starts moving between them, a sandy haired guy with great posture that doesn’t quite make up for his baby-face. </p>
<p>    “Hey Sailor boy,” Taylor says, standing up to put her hands all over him, her head peeking over the top of his by a few inches, “We were just talking about you.” </p>
<p>    “Should I be nervous?” </p>
<p>    “Hmmm, always,” Taylor says, and Mara pushes down the impulse to kick her in the shins as she presses her face into the side of her boyfriend’s head. She can’t stand girls who go all cephalopod in the presence of their boyfriends, just absolutely thrilled to show off they’ve managed to bag a guy, like that’s even hard when you’re rich and blonde and hot. At least if she was a lesbian Mara could respect the objective difficulty of a smaller dating pool. Sometimes she feels like whatever she is, this half-and-half chocolate/vanilla swirl of sexuality is the universe’s way of making up to her for everything else by doubling her market. </p>
<p>    Not that it’s really done Mara any good so far. </p>
<p>    “You wouldn’t happen to be Eleanora Saverin would you?” Elliot asks, clearly unphased by his girlfriend draped over him, like this is the norm. There’s something about him that brings to mind cartoon storks with little uniforms bringing babies, dignified and gangly all at once. </p>
<p>    “Who wants to know?” Eleanora asks, already sitting up. </p>
<p>    “Topher Yancey was looking for you, I guess he saw your name on the list, wanted to say hi?” </p>
<p>    “Oh Topher, sure of course.” </p>
<p>    “I can show you where he…” </p>
<p>    “If you wouldn’t mind,” Eleanora says, slipping back into her shoes and giving Mara a little squeeze on the arm, “I’ll be right back, will you be okay on your own?” </p>
<p>    “Do I have a choice?” Mara says. </p>
<p>    Eleanora looks annoyed and Divya interjects smoothly, “It’s fine El, we can show her the ropes. We should have Cath make you a drink, her cocktail shaker handling is unreal.” </p>
<p>    “It’s all in the arms,” Catherine says daintily, grinning at her. </p>
<p>    “Onward then?” Elliot says, Taylor letting go of him finally, clearly giving up her dream of total boyfriend osmosis and settling back into her spot on the couch. </p>
<p>    Eleanora taps Mara on the cheek and opens her mouth but closes it after a moment of hesitation, giving her a second tap before following after Elliot. </p>
<p>“So uh,” Mara says, turning to Taylor. “Are you a Mary-Kate or an Ashley.” </p>
<p>    “Funny.” </p>
<p>    “Never heard that before,” Catherine adds good-naturedly but not without an edge as she takes Eleanora’s vacated seat. </p>
<p>    “Taylor’s a Mary-Kate, Cath’s an Ashley,” Divya says. “Obviously.” </p>
<p>    “Obviously,” Mara parrots. </p>
<p>    “I can see why Eleanora likes you,” Divya says, taking a sip of her drink, and okay what the <em>fuck </em>is that supposed to mean? Mara can feel the pile of resentment that’s been building all evening starting to reach dangerous levels. </p>
<p>    “So uh, Mara, what’s your major?” Catherine asks after a long sullen lull. </p>
<p>“Computer science.” </p>
<p>“Oh shit, really?” Taylor says, leaning in a little as her voice shoots up an octave. </p>
<p>Mara hesitates, “Yeah, why?” </p>
<p> Catherine’s leaning in now too, “Do you—I mean you wouldn’t happen to</p>
<p>be a programmer would you?” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Mara repeats, a little more emphatically, “Why?” </p>
<p>The three of them trade a rapid series of glances, like light bouncing between mirrors in a</p>
<p>science project. </p>
<p>“We have an idea we’d like to talk to you about,” Catherine says and Mara realizes</p>
<p>suddenly how much they have her boxed in, alone in the middle of a party full of strangers. Not that she’s afraid of a set of Kappas and some girl from the Bee, but there’s something a little unbalancing about the set-up all the same. </p>
<p>    “There’s this project we’ve been working on for a while,” Divya explains, “A web project, but uh, we’ve been struggling to nail down the programming support we need. We thought we had a good lead with this one guy but he’s giving us the run around.” </p>
<p>    “You try to stroke the ego of Harvard guys and they won’t even give you the time of day” Taylor says, drowning the last  of her drink wryly. </p>
<p>    “I thought the whole point of the HarvardConnection was stroking the ego of Harvard guys,” Catherine retorts readjusting on the couch. </p>
<p>    “Yeah but in a way that benefits <em>us</em>,” Taylor replies, and then more seriously. “Hey are you okay?” </p>
<p>    “What’s your last name?” Mara hears herself say, which is pretty impressive over the sound of blood rushing in her ears. </p>
<p>    “What?” Taylor says.</p>
<p>    “It’s Winklevoss, right?” Mara says, the words sticking to the inside of her mouth a little as she says them. “C and T Winklevoss.” </p>
<p>    “Uh, yeah,” Catherine says cautiously. “Why? </p>
<p>    “I need to find Nora,” Mara says standing, banging her shins against the low table in front of the couch. </p>
<p>    “Ow, you okay?” Divya says, a hand on her arm, but Mara brushes her off and keeps going. Plowing through knots of sweaty bodies, half a guy’s drink ends up spilled down her arm when she shoves past him, craning her neck to find Eleanora. She finally spots her looking politely interested in what some square-jawed Phoenix bro with his stupid backwards hat on is telling her. </p>
<p>    “Nora,” Mara says sharply, cutting off the guy mid-sentence about who cares what. </p>
<p>    “Hey just one—” Eleanora starts and then stops when gets a better look at her, “What’s wrong did you—did someone spill their drink on you?” </p>
<p>    “It’s fine,” she says tightly, “I need to talk to you.” </p>
<p>    “I, uh,” Nora hesitates, looking back to Mr. Phoenix K.S. Like she needs his permission. Fuck that. </p>
<p>    “Now,” Mara repeats, because if Eleanor refuses to be rude she’ll be rude for her. </p>
<p>    “It’s fine,” the guy says, waving a hand like he’s some magnanimous authority figure, “Help your friend, We’ll catch up more later. It was great seeing you again Ellie.” </p>
<p>    “You too,” Eleanora says. “I’ll uh, email you about the internship recommendation.” </p>
<p>    “Nora,” she repeats, “Now, c’mon.” </p>
<p>    “Mhmm, sure,” Eleanora says, and then she’s grabbing her by the meaty part of her damp arm and pulling her off, grip getting a little tighter as she grits out. “That was so fucking rude Mara.” </p>
<p>    “Sorry I broke up some boring guy skeezing on you <em>Ellie</em>,” she says, tripping a little on the first step as Eleanora leads her up the carpeted stairs of the club house. </p>
<p>    “First of all, he wasn’t skeezing on me, secondly even if he was I can handle myself fine thank you very much, and thirdly, that <em>guy </em>was Christopher Yancey.” </p>
<p>“Who?” </p>
<p>“Just the Vice President of this whole thing. So, you know a really fucking good connection for me to have, so maybe next time I get the invite first hand and not through someone else.” </p>
<p>    “Wow didn’t know you were gunning to bag a Final Club boyfriend. How feminist of you, I’m sure your mother will be thrilled.” </p>
<p>     Eleanora pushes open a door halfway down the hallway and pulls Mara inside. “I’m not doing this with you. Are you going to tell me what you’re actually upset about or are you just going to belittle my life choices all night?” </p>
<p>    Mara bites the inside of her cheek because Nora’s got her backed into a corner and knows it, “What are you doing?” she asks instead, sitting on the edge of the seemingly random couch placed in this narrow room and watching Nora aggressively rifle through her little clutch purse. </p>
<p>    “Shockingly you’re not the first person in the world to get a drink spilled on you at a party,” she says, pulling out one of those small wet wipe napkins they give out with hot wings. </p>
<p>    “You’re so lame,” Mara says, and is rewarded with Nora ripping open the packet with her teeth and wiping down her arm with far more force and aggression than anyone has ever deployed using a wet wipe. </p>
<p>    “You’re fucking lame,” Eleanora mimics under her breath but the heat of her indignation is starting to melt away. She smooths the wipe down Mara’s arm gently one last time before she finally drops her hand. </p>
<p>    “What’s the point of this room,” Mara says, stretching out her legs on the couch as Eleanora searches the room for a trashcan, finding one tucked under the narrow table opposite the couch. “This so the good boys of Phoenix S.K. don’t have to tromp back to their dorms in the cold to show the fuck bus girls a good time?” </p>
<p>    “Yeah, that’s exactly what they are,” Nora says, picking up a bowl Mara hadn’t noticed from the table and shaking it at her, the packets of condoms rustling together loudly, underscored from the bass line from the party downstairs still blaring. </p>
<p>    Mara pulls her legs back off the couch and stands, Nora snorting at her and sitting on the arm on the couch. Which makes Mara think of Divya, which makes her angry all over again, perfect timing for Eleanora to ask, “So, okay, you going to tell me what you’re all pissy about?” </p>
<p>    “Divya and the fucking doublemint twins— she’s Divya Narendra.” </p>
<p>    “Yeah….” </p>
<p>    “They’re the ones with the website, the dating website, the stupid fucking HarvardConnection.” </p>
<p>    “What?” Nora says, cocking her head. “Really?” </p>
<p>    “Yes really! They basically begged me to program it for them— again,” Mara says, laughing high and reedy in her throat. “Can you believe that? As if.” </p>
<p>    “I mean…” Eleanora says, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Look I know it’s not really your thing Mar, but I know Divya and she’s pretty serious about this project. It might be, you know, worth hearing them out a bit more before you write it off.” </p>
<p>    “Are you fucking serious?” </p>
<p>    “Divya’s the recruitment chair for the Bee, her friends are in Kappa, those are good worthwhile connections to have.”</p>
<p>    Mara is down the absolute rabbit hole, more off balance than if Nora had ripped into the bowl of condoms and started eating them. “You think—no let me get this right. You think I should make some knock off Ivy League Match-dot-com so I can ‘have good connections.’” She air quotes around the words, trying to tear into them like talons. </p>
<p>    “I don’t know what’s so crazy about that,” Eleanora says throwing her hands up. “This could be your second chance to get punched, and even if you don’t, you’re on their radar, they’d know how smart and talented you are, how is that a bad thing?” </p>
<p>    “Oh so I should suck up and do favours for them in the pathetic hopes they’ll scratch my back when the time comes.” </p>
<p>    “<em>How the fuck do you think any of this works</em>!?” Eleanora seethes, finally snapping. blunt with annoyance. “Did you even <em>think </em>about the fact that you leaving them high and dry makes me look like a jerk?” </p>
<p>“Please.” </p>
<p>“I’m serious!” </p>
<p>“So I have to do this just so you look good? Why, because you wanna fuck Divya? Is that it? I build her a website and maybe if you’re really really good she’ll bring you up to one of these rooms and— ” </p>
<p>“Divya. <em>Has a girlfriend</em>. And you know what? Even if I was trying to hit that a <em>friend </em>would be trying to help me! I put so much into this friendship for you, and it’s like you don’t even <em>care</em>,” Eleanora says, “Why do you think you’re standing here right now? It’s because I networked my ass off and got you in the door, and you don’t even want to explore what might keep you in the room? For fuck sake Mara. I know you think this is all superficial bullshit but I’ve actually worked really hard for this. Do you think these opportunities just fall out of the sky?” </p>
<p>“So that’s all I am to you? Another chess piece on the board? Another strategy you can deploy. Look at how you snatched me from non-affiliated obscurity— ” </p>
<p>“ — When have I <em>ever</em> — all I do is bring you things on a silver fucking platter. And this one time I want you to pay it back, the one time I tug on the line, you’re acting like this is such a horrible betrayal of our friendship. And I guess maybe it is, because all I do is give and give and give to you and you never give it back.”</p>
<p>    “Sorry I’m not chomping at the bit to shave my pussy and curl my fucking eyelashes so I can suck up to future state’s attorneys.” </p>
<p>    Eleanora’s eyes go wide and the silence rings between them as she crosses her arms over her chest. </p>
<p>    “Oh, okay I get it now,” Nora says. “I get it. You don’t actually <em>want </em>to be here, you don’t wanna play the game, you’re just mad that I got invited and you didn’t? Hmmm? Is that it?” </p>
<p>    It’s too close and Mara flinches away from it like the hot edge of a metal pan. “Fuck you.” </p>
<p>    “Fuck <em>you</em>,” Nora says, her face still flushed. “What have you <em>ever </em>done for me in this friendship? Name one fucking time you went out of your way to do something for my benefit.” </p>
<p>    Mara scoffs, “Need I remind you we literally met because you were bleeding through your tennis skirt at a pledge frat party crawl and I was the one who gave you my sweater. Not one of your stupid ladder climbing ‘sisters.’ Me. Just some rando.” </p>
<p>    “Well glad you got that out of the way early then,” Eleanora says, snatching her bag off the couch and moving for the door. “You’re such a dick.” </p>
<p>    “I said no to Dustin,” Mara says, before she can overthink it, before she can banish it to the back of her mind, before Nora walks out the door. </p>
<p>“What does that have to do with me? You didn’t like Dustin.” </p>
<p>“No, but maybe I could have,” Mara says. “I mean he’s my best friend and we’ve already fucked, that’s three-quarters of the way to being my boyfriend. Maybe I just needed to let him try and, you know, woo me.” </p>
<p>“That wouldn’t have worked,” Eleanora says, too quickly. </p>
<p>“I mean, it might have,” Mara says. “Not everyone is a fucking leggy Brazillian who did catalogue modelling in high school, Nora. I don’t have hordes of people throwing themselves at me, vying for my attention. You really wanna bet that I couldn’t get into someone actually wanting me first? Grow up, this isn’t a fairy tale where love is pure and true and has no outside factors.” </p>
<p>“Okay well if you really think you and Dustin could have made it work then why did you say no?” Eleanora says, and then waits, arms crossed over her chest. In the room beside them someone must be having a great time, the sound of two bodies (maybe more?) hitting the wall echoes.</p>
<p>“You already asked the question and I answered it,” Mara says when it’s clear Eleanora’s not going to give in. </p>
<p>“Answer it. Tell me why.” </p>
<p>“You know why.” </p>
<p>“Mara,” Nora says, all wide eyes. “Wait — what are you doing?” </p>
<p>“What does it look like I’m doing?” Mara says, arms pulled into the sheath of her dress, “I’m taking my clothes off. Shit.” Her bra being safety-pinned to her dress is really not helping with this endeavor. </p>
<p>“Mar-<em>a</em>!” </p>
<p>“Nor-<em>a</em>!” she imitates, trying and failing to get the catch on the safety pin keeping her bra strap hidden. “If you’re gonna be all pedantic about it I’m gonna cut to the fucking chase.” </p>
<p>She’s just about to say fuck it and unclasp her bra from the back so she can pull the whole thing over her head when Eleanora’s hands are suddenly on her shoulders, steering her backwards until she’s hitting the wall beside the table, crushing her wrists against the wall where they’re still tucked behind her back. </p>
<p>“Ow, Nor-<em>a</em>,” she whines, swallowing the second syllable as suddenly Eleanora’s face is pressed right in against hers. She has a little constellation of very faint freckles under her left eye, and Mara stupidly pulls her hands out from under her dress, wanting to touch them. Wanting to lick them off like sugar on a saucer. </p>
<p>Nora has other ideas. </p>
<p>    “No,” Nora says, grabbing her wrists when they emerge from under her dress. “Say it.” </p>
<p>    Mara is aware, in an abstract way, that Eleanora has always been taller than her, but there’s know it and there’s being pinned to a wall and hovered over to really drive the point home. Mara has the stupid thought that maybe this is why Taylor Winklevoss’ boyfriend likes being shorter than her. </p>
<p><em>Sorry Elliot</em>, Mara thinks, <em>I get it now</em>. </p>
<p>“I feel like we’re really splitting hairs on this now,” Mara actually says, because seriously. Her back arches against the wall and she manages to close a few inches of distance between them, but it’s not enough. </p>
<p>“Why is this so hard for you to say?” Eleanora says, squeezing her wrists. It doesn’t hurt much, just enough to make Mara wonder if she’d like it if it hurt more. </p>
<p>“It just seems kind of stupid, or not—not stupid,” Mara doubles back when Nora’s face flashes hurt, “I just mean—Nora you have me pinned to a fucking wall right now in a Phoenix club fuck cupboard. What else do you <em>want</em>.” </p>
<p>Speaking it into existence seems to pop whatever bubble they’d been suspended in, Eleanora coming back into herself sheepishly, dropping Mara’s wrists and taking a half step back. “Jesus. I just want you to say you <em>like </em>me, is that a crime?”</p>
<p>“Of course I like you, c’mon that is like a <em>given</em>. Just because I don’t go around saying that water is wet doesn’t mean that it’s not.” </p>
<p>“Well maybe sometimes water wants to know,” Eleanora huffs. “Like right now maybe so water could like, actually kiss you and not spend the next three weeks panicking that she did something you didn’t really want or like. And then while water is like, working herself into a fucking, I don’t know, whirlpool about it you go out and start seeing some other girl for three and a half months!” </p>
<p>“This metaphor is not hanging together that well,” Mara says. “But I mean if you wanna talk about other things that are wet…”</p>
<p> “Shut up, you are not,” Eleanora snaps, far too quickly, like she thinks Mara is making fun of her again. </p>
<p>“Nora,” she says, reaching for her hand, reeling her in, pleased when Nora comes easily. “I like you,” she says half into the knuckles of her hand, even though it feels a little stupid. It’s worth it though when Eleanora lets out a huff of air and her shoulders sag a little, leeching tension. </p>
<p>“I like you,” she says again, and then presses a kiss to the inside of Nora’s wrist before tugging her hand down, guiding it under her skirt and down the waistband of her panties. “I <em>like </em>you.”  </p>
<p>“Oh Christ,” Eleanora says, her fingers moving hesitantly at first and then more firmly against her. </p>
<p>“And water is wet,” Mara says smugly, squeezing her thighs together to keep Nora’s hand in place as she leans up to kiss her. </p>
<p>Nora beats her to it, her free hand coming up for a handful of her hair as her fingers start to explore in earnest between Mara’s legs as their mouths crush together in the kind of stupid desperation that comes from not getting what you want for so long. </p>
<p>“<em>Shit</em>,” Mara hisses as Nora’s knuckles brush firm against her clit, which is the silver lining of her pulling her hand out from between her legs. “Nooo.”</p>
<p>“Shush,” Eleanora says, and then pulls at Mara’s bottom lip with her teeth, the hand that was just in her panties coming up to hold her firm by the jaw. The wet smear of her own slick on her jaw should be gross and not the hottest fucking thing that’s even happened to Mara. </p>
<p>She hasn’t even clocked them moving backwards until her back is hitting the wall again and Nora is doing these little firm licks into Mara’s mouth as they kiss. Mara manages to get her blouse untucked from her skirt, hands grappling at the back of her bra band for a frantic second before Nora pulls away again. </p>
<p>“It’s a front closure,” she pants, before diving back in to keep kissing her, her tongue fucking everywhere in Mara’s mouth, like she’s trying to lick the enamel off of her teeth. But, you know, in like a sexy way. </p>
<p>Eleanora is so warm and the skin of her bare torso under her shirt is so soft and smooth as Mara migrates her hands to the front of her body, squeezing her tits once gently through the lacy fabric of her bra before going for the closure. </p>
<p>“Here, here,” Nora says, fumbling for the first two buttons on her blouse before frantically pulling it over her head and pulling her bra off over her shoulders. </p>
<p>“Holy fuck,” Mara says before she can stop herself. “You have perfect tits.” </p>
<p>“Okay, shut up,” Nora says, grabbing Mara’s tits and squeezing them hard. “I will not condone this while yours are right here.” She gets her arms up the back of Mara’s dress so she can do what she stopped Mara from doing a few minutes ago. Mara goes scrambling for the back zip to help her, the metal teeth getting caught in her hair for a terrifying half second before it’s up and over her head. </p>
<p>“Sorry ladies,” Nora says when she emerges out the other side, cupping her breasts gently and kissing each of them softly in turn. </p>
<p>“You’re such a dweeb.” </p>
<p>“Mhmm,” Eleanora hums in agreement, before rolling Mara’s nipples between her fingers and twisting hard. </p>
<p>    Mara moans. “Okay, c’mon I took your top off so I could touch your tits, how is this fair.” </p>
<p>    “You snooze you lose,” Nora says, but lets herself be reeled up so Mara can grope at her chest as they kiss again, a little sloppier but not without intent. Eleanora is making these breathy little moans into her mouth, then louder and longer when she squeezes hard in response to Nora’s hand between her legs again. </p>
<p>    “Should we like, lie down or something.” </p>
<p>    “That seems very unsanitary,” Eleanora says, trying to pull off her own panties one handed from under her skirt. Mara’s brain short circuiting a little bit as she takes her in greedily, naked save for her skirt, heels having been clicked off at some point awhile ago. Mara very generously does not point out that the carpet itself is probably insanely gross. Still, the idea is in her head now, and even as much as part of her wants to to just lean back and take it as Nora’s long hand-model fingers work magic between her legs, she can’t help but give in to the impulse. </p>
<p>    “Mar—?” Nora starts when Mara pulls her hand out again, cutting off when Mara pulls her wet fingers to her mouth and sucks, sinking to her knees as she goes. She runs her hands up Nora’s thighs, which flex so prettily when she licks between her two fingers before letting them fall from her mouth. Eleanora seems to get the message, hiking up her skirt a little so Mara can get cozier between her long legs, leaning up on her knees and bracing her hands just below her hips. </p>
<p>“Water is wet,” she replies, spreading Nora’s pussy lips with two fingers and giving her a tentative lick over her clit. Eleanora’s hand is immediately at the back of her neck, pulling her up closer, and Mara would say something pithy about it if her mouth weren’t already occupied. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>    The good brothers of Phoenix S.K. club had seen fit, for the convenience of their upstairs guests, a multi-stalled ladies restroom down the hall from their private rooms. </p>
<p>    “I just need a second,” Eleanora says, and her hair is damp where Mara has a hand around the back of her neck when she pulls her down for another kiss. “Mara—Mara c’mon I’m serious.”</p>
<p>    She lets her go, but it’s Nora who presses another kiss on the delicate skin beside her eye, “I’ll be quick, and then we could go back to mine maybe?” She says it cautiously, pulling out the back half of the sentence like taffy, calculatedly sheepish but genuinely unsure. </p>
<p>    “Go, go already,” Mara says, batting her away, and Eleanora laughs, cracking the door and taking a quick glance into the hallway before smoothing her skirt and leaving Mara alone with her thoughts and the condom bowl. She counts backwards from one hundred and then leaves, not bothering to check the hall first, which turns out to be a really terrible choice. Directly across the hall one of the Winklevoss twins is checking herself in a gilded mirror, and their eyes meet awkwardly in the reflection. </p>
<p>    “Hi,” Mara says, for lack of something better to say. She clocks the bangs, which means it’s Catherine. Not that a name does much to help her differentiate them. </p>
<p>    “Hi,” Catherine says, hesitates, and then turns around, exhaling sheepishly. “Okay, be honest with me. Does this look like I have a rash?” </p>
<p>    She gestures at the pale stretch from the bottom of her neck to the part of her clavicle that’s exposed at the top of her dress, which does look a little red and rashy. </p>
<p>    “Uhhh,” Mara says, “Yeah kinda.” </p>
<p>    “<em>Why</em>,” Catherine whines, and turns back to the mirror wiping at her chest with a crumpled up tissue as her twin appears at the top of the stairs, now in a jacket. </p>
<p>    “Oh hey,” Taylor says, “The prodigal daughter returns. Sorry we thought you were a dude, but the whole FaceMash livejournal rant did kind of scream nerd boy virgin.” </p>
<p>    “I’m— what?” </p>
<p>    “Tay!” Catherine hisses, “Not tactful.” </p>
<p>    “Anyway,” Taylor says, ignoring her sister as she shoves her coat at her. “Honestly, you’d think I’d not jump to that conclusion with the company I keep but…” </p>
<p>    “Okay please stop talking,” Catherine says, her face turning red to match her chest. “I think what my sister is, rather untactfully, trying to say is that we were really impressed with FaceMash and we’d love another chance to pitch you our idea. If you can forgive our uh, rather lackluster first impression.” </p>
<p>    “I can’t believe you didn’t wait for me!” Divya calls as she climbs up the stairs, looking different in a way Mara can’t quite place, a jacket slung over her arm. </p>
<p>    “I —” Mara starts, and then pulls back, pieces starting to click together, Divya’s sudden lack of lipstick, Catherine’s chest. “Oh, <em>you’re </em>the girlfriend.” </p>
<p>    Catherine makes a little spluttering kettle noise, but Divya just drapes her coat over her shoulders. “Yeah, she is,” Divya says, untucking Catherine’s hair from where it got caught under the collar of her coat. “Where’d <em>your</em> girl get off to?” </p>
<p>    Mara gestures vaguely over her shoulder with her thumb. No need to be coy about it to the girl who’s lipstick ended up all over her girlfriend’s chest.</p>
<p>“We’re going to get all-day breakfast!” Taylor chirps, checking her lip gloss in the mirror, “Elliot’s playing chauffeur, wanna come?” </p>
<p>    “I uh, I think we maybe have plans back at Nora’s.” </p>
<p>    “Good girl,” Taylor says. </p>
<p>    “Well here, take my card,” Divya says, pulling a slim silver case from her jacket. “I know we hit the dating part a little hard when we, hmmm, thought we were aiming for a different target. But we’re actually hoping to do something a little more holistic with the site.” </p>
<p>    That actually does perk Mara’s interest, “How so?” </p>
<p>    Divya shrugs, gestures around. “The final club boys have their clubhouses, everyone likes having a little exclusive space of their own. Plus, it’s nice to be the one dishing out the perks sometimes, you know what I mean?” </p>
<p>    And Mara does actually, and something clicks in her sharply about this whole evening, how Eleanora was half-right about her not wanting to play the game while still being half wrong. Mara isn’t opposed to playing the game, she just wants to be the one people are turning to for a leg up, not the other way around. </p>
<p>    “And if I say no?” Mara says, finally accepting the card Divya’s been holding out to her. </p>
<p>    It’s Taylor who shrugs. “No hard feelings.” </p>
<p>    “Okay well,” Mara says, “I’ll think about. That’s not a promise just. I’ll think about it.” </p>
<p>    Catherine smiles at her sweetly, but it seems genuine. “Take your time. And if you have any questions we’d be happy to answer them, maybe we could take you out for lunch or something —” </p>
<p>    “Okay, okay Miss Congeniality she gets it,” Taylor says, waving her arms at her sister and Divya like herding cattle. “I need pancakes in my body an <em>hour</em> ago, we’re going, we’re leaving, we’re letting these nice lesbians get on with their evening.” </p>
<p>    Mara is neither of those things but she can appreciate the sentiment nevertheless as Taylor manages to get Divya and Catherine herded down the stairs, Catherine smoothing a hand over the back of Divya’s jacket in a tender little way that makes Mara’s heart catch. </p>
<p>    “You just missed your friends,” Mara says when she hears Eleanora come up behind her, not touching her but standing so close they might as well be. </p>
<p>    “That’s okay,” Nora says, soft and low and just for her. “I’ll see ‘em another time.” </p>
<p>    “I told them I’d think about their weird little website, holistic dating site social network whatever,” Mara shrugs, “I guess we’ll see. Okay, stop it— don’t look so goddamn pleased.” </p>
<p>    “This is just my face,” Eleanora lies, grinning, “I’m just— I’m really happy. No caveats. I wanted you to get something nice out of this party.” </p>
<p>    “That really makes you happy, doesn’t it,” Mara says, rubbing her thumb over the joint of Eleanora’s wrist. </p>
<p>    “What does?” </p>
<p>    “Doing nice things for me.” </p>
<p>    “Of course it does,” Eleanora says, and downstairs the party is still thrumming away, though the energy seems a little turned down, they’re far from the only couple who snuck off for some private time. </p>
<p>    “That’s just,” Mara starts, “I’m still looking for the catch.” </p>
<p>    “Uhhh well I think I sort of gave that away back there,” Eleanora says, and then, more serious, “Not that— even when we were— if we were just— I still want to do nice things for you. No strings. It just makes me happy when you’re happy.”</p>
<p>    “Mhmm.” </p>
<p>    “Hey,” Nora says in her best, <em>we are changing the subject now</em> voice, “Do you want another drink? Or we could try and party hop, I heard the Fox is doing something tonight too.” </p>
<p>    “Well,” she says, “I mean, if you like doing nice things for me, I mean, if it makes you happy when I’m happy, I certainly have some ideas.” </p>
<p>    “Such as?” </p>
<p>    Mara pulls her down by the shoulder, getting another heady lungful of <em>NORA </em>from the lingering perfume she’d dabbed on her neck the way she’d done for Mara back at her dorm, and lowering her voice more than whispering into her ear. </p>
<p>    “Oh,” Eleanora says on the heels of a sharp inhale, “That could, that could definitely be arranged.” </p>
<p>    Mara grins, “Yeah? Your Cosmos gave me some ideas.” </p>
<p>    Nora goes pink in the cheeks, but she doesn’t hesitate as she checks her watch, “How fast do you think we could get back to my dorm?” </p>
<p>    “Quick but I wish it was quicker, ugh,” Mara says, as she grabs Nora’s hand and starts pulling her towards the stairs.</p>
<p>    “We’ll just have to book it then,” Eleanora agrees, “Because of the cold.” </p>
<p>    “Of course, because of the cold,” Mara agrees, “Ugh and Divya and her girlfriend already left, I bet they would have driven us.” </p>
<p>    Eleanora pauses on the landing. “Divya’s girlfriend was here?” </p>
<p>    “Yeah. The doublemint twin with the bangs, right?” Mara knows her name is Catherine but she’s not going to admit that. “Did you not know that?”</p>
<p>    Eleanora blinks, clearly recalculating, and Mara has to give her a little jostle to get her going down the stairs again,“<em>OH</em> okay. No, I mean, I knew she <em>had</em> a girlfriend but I didn’t know it was— that’s really interesting, I bet Divya has a bunch of good varsity connections through her— and you know what, it doesn’t matter. I don’t even care. Sex now, networking later.” </p>
<p>    “That’s the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Mara says, giving Eleanora a final tug back out the front door of the Phoenix clubhouse and into the night. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Femslash Feb! Thank you so much to youshallnotfinditso for letting me borrow her OC Elliot Greene and for being one half of my incredible beta team alongside evol_love. Thanks for letting me spend way too much time debating the merits of different genderswap names. </p>
<p>Find me on tumblr where I'm also phonecallfromgod</p></blockquote></div></div>
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